Wednesday, September 7, 2011

My Catalan Adventures I - The day I accidentaly broke into someone's home

My arrival day was quite eventful. I am now copying what I have written in my diary onto my computer for your enjoyment. Excuse the very long first post but it could not be shorter. =)

09:00 – I get up, finish packing my bags, make myself a cappuccino, eat a slice of bread and kiss everyone goodbye. This is always hard. Everyone hates goodbyes so I try and make it quick say “see you soon” and head off out the flat. I try not to cry but I always do.

10:30 – I get in the cab that will be taking me to London City Airport. I have never flown from City Airport before so am excited at the prospect of it only taking 30 minutes for me to reach it. My flight is at 1.15pm. The cab driver is from Ethiopia but he was born in Sudan. He tells me he loves Spain after he asks about my destination and I tell him I want to go to Addis Ababa one day. The most of the journey is silent. I’m reflecting on how the next year is going to be.

11:00 – We arrive at the airport. I check in via the self check-in machines so all I need to do is ‘bag drop’, drop my bag, right? Wrong. Everyone who has checked in before hand is made to queue with those who haven’t checked in. There is a very long queue. I think ‘fudge this’ and go off to find a solution for my rumbling stomach. I find a prêt a manger; buy myself a club sandwich and a cuppa tea. Satisfied, I get up and rush to the toilets whilst trying to balance the newly bought mandarin between my luggage. [Side note 1 – I have one hiking bag, one backpack (very heavy backpack), a guitar, a small bag for my important items and a plastic bag containing The economist, Time, New Scientist and Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time)

11:30 – I leave the toilet, there is still a massive queue so I decided I have to join it. So I queue, I pick up my copy of “Wharf” newspaper and drool over the photo of the winner of the astronomy photography competition and further complain with the couple behind me about the whole situation of having to queue when we had checked in before hand. I am told by a random stranger he is going to Portugal, I smile and kindly ignore.

11:45 - Finally it’s my turn and I stroll up to the desk, hand my ticket over and am told I must drop my bag in Zone A. (!?) I go to Zone A, drop my bag and head towards security.

12:00 – After passing through security, which was quite eventless other than having to take my shoes off and being frisked by a way-too-keen police officer I go to Waterstones and purchase the magazines I mentioned earlier. Bit of light reading for the journey. I find a seat in the lounge, eat my mandarin and commence reading.

12.50 – Roughly an hour later I am asked to board, so I walk down the long corridor to gate 10. (Side note 2 – London city Airport is quite small. If I hadn’t queued for an hour I would have nicer things to say about it – such as mentioning the comfort of the leather lounge chairs)

13:00 – We pass through the gate to find ourselves in a relatively small stuffy room. I am lucky enough to find a seat. An old Spanish couple kick up a fuss with the somewhat unhelpful airport staff about why we were asked to wait in this small stuffy room when in fact we were sat comfortably in the lounge. I offer my chair up, proudly they refuse. After 15 mins or so we are allowed to board the plane. I make my way to the front stairs and get settled into 5B next to a lovely Scottish lady who lives in Melbourne.

15:00 – We still haven’t budged. The minute we had entered the plane it had started to rain and after refuelling, due to weight restrictions we are not allowed to fly. After 4 volunteers leave the plane to catch a later flight from Gatwick at 6pm (and £250 pounds richer due to compensation) and after their bags have been individually found from the heap of suitcases in the baggage hold we wait for another 30 minutes for permission from air traffic control before we can lift off. Meanwhile, the air conditioner is on full blast and I have literally pulled my hoodie over my face trying to avoid making my cold worst.

18:30 – I awake 5 minutes left to landing. The only thing I have eaten are a packet of korma crisps made especially for the flight. I have also shared a small bottle of red wine with my neighbour. Eager to leave we get up when we land and head quickly into the airport to baggage claim.

18:45 – I have my bags and am currently sharing a cab into Barcelona with the lady from Melbourne. I am late and need to be at the train station to Flaca. We decide sharing a cab will be a) cheaper and b) quicker. I nearly send the driver to Estats Nord (the bus station) but correct my mistake and send him to SANTS (the train station) instead. I get off at the station and he helps put my hiking bag on my back. I look like a camel.

19:15 – I am on the train to Flaca. Finally. I am still hungry and now quite tired. Some of my friends will know the term we use for this situation of hunger mixed with grumpiness. HANGER (hunger + angry). I am hangry. The journey is two hours long. (Side note 3 – There is no announcement on the train as to which station we are at so it gets increasingly difficult to figure out where the hell I am in the dark looking through the window of the train. I keep asking people “Donde Estamos?” “Where are we?” and finally manage to find my stop) A kind gentleman helps me with my guitar and I am greeted by my coordinator.

21:30 – I am in a car with my coordinator, her friend, her daughter and a dog. I am making my way to Palafrugell, my hometown for the next year and am told that a teacher from the school I will be teaching has prepared some food for me. My mum texts me “It’s getting realer by the minute”. I agree.

22:00 – I arrive at the teacher’s house that receives me kindly with her husband and two children. There is an omelette, manchego cheese and pan con tomate (bread with tomato sauce, olive oil and a little garlic sometimes). I could not be happier. I feel welcome.

22.20 – I am taken to my apartment by the husband of the teacher and their 8-year-old daughter. We are not only carrying my items but umbrellas too. It has started to rain heavily. I am told that “I have bought the rain from England”. I hope he’s not right!

22:25 – I walk up to the first floor of the apartment building and am let into my flat. I say that it was meant to be the flat next door but we have the set of keys, given to us by the estate agent for this flat. I don’t make a fuss, the flats are identical so I walk in happily, put my bags on the floor, say goodbye and sigh a sigh of relief. I start exploring. Everything is pristine. I am glad, they have cleaned the place up for me. I go into the bathroom and find a bathroom mat in the shower. Oh! A gift, I lay it on the floor and smile. I then make my way into the bedroom. There are sheets on the bed all made up. I think that’s very nice of them. I then open the drawer and to my surprise find some bras looking up at me.

Hang on a minute, says my brain, this doesn’t seem right. My parents call just at this minute. I explain the situation and I am convinced to call my estate agent. I hang up, call my estate agent and hear a long sigh. There has been a mistake. I hang up and slowly panic. What if the lady who lives here comes back right now as I am looking at her dressed in her cupboard?? I take all my things; turn off all the lights, and head to sit on the stairs of the apartment. I am waiting for the estate agent to call me back. I get up every 30 seconds to press the apartment lights on so I don’t sit in complete darkness. I am called back and told there is a key to my apartment under the mat of a flat upstairs. I don’t ask questions, go upstairs and indeed there is. The agent explains, the woman who lives upstairs used to live in my flat and has just put them there for me, as she hasn’t returned them to the office.

23:00 – I get into my own flat. My empty flat and sigh again. This is home. I brush my teeth and head straight to my empty bed. My jumper makes a fabulous pillows and I fall fast asleep.


Follow up – I get a visit the next day from my neighbour. She introduces herself and asks “Did you take a shower in my flat?” I’m surprised. “No, of course not. Nice to meet you too” Then I remember – the bathroom mat. I explain, we laugh and am told, “Well, if you ever need anything you’re more than welcome.” I give my thanks and we enter our own flats.

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